


for the moments between

by ghostofgatsby



Series: I'd kill for you. I'd die for you. I'd live for you. [8]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Corset, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fae & Fairies, Food, Gen, Knives, M/M, Multi, Sexual Content, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 02:50:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11819685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/pseuds/ghostofgatsby
Summary: A handful of scenes with a newly-crowned Sips and the rest of the Garbage Court.Includes parties, cuddles, food, and Smith in a corset.(chapters range in rating from Teen to Explicit)





	1. Pool Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because the pool needed to be used at least once before and not end in terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barely edited things that have been sitting in my google docs for too long.  
> Takes place after misery acquaints and before within a hollow crown.
> 
> reblog: https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2017/08/16/for-the-moments-between-ghostofgatsby
> 
> Chapter Rating: E
> 
> The song Sips references is Scarborough Fair by Simon and Garfunkel.

Ross carefully lowers himself into the pool in Sips’ backyard, only to get hit in the face with a water wave. He wipes off his face as Smith grins.

“You really wanna go, mate?” Ross asks him.

“Go what?” Sips asks. The mortal king slides his patio door shut and walks closer to the side of the pool, beach towel under his arm.

“Smith, don’t get into a splash fight with Ross.” Trott warns, reclining back in a deck chair with a book. He crosses one ankle over the other, happily shaded from the summer sunlight.

“Why no splash fights?” Sips asks, “Not that I’m not complaining...”

“Ross always wins,” Smith says grumpily, wading backwards through the water. He sinks slowly into the deep end of the pool, staring up at Sips with a dark little smirk.

“You’re a creepy son of a bitch, Smiffy.” Sips remarks as he lays down a towel on the concrete lining the shallow end.

“Son of a mare, actually.” Smith sinks down and hides his grin under the surface of the water.

Ross looks over at Trott and smiles, swishing his tail through the water. “Book any good, Trott?

Trott narrows his eyes at him over the top of his graphic novel. “If you splash me, Ross, I’m going to use your tail as a fish hook.”

Ross licks his lips and laughs. “Does that mean I get to eat sushi?”

“Nope. No sushi for you.”

“Awww...” Ross trails his hands over the surface of the water, turning back and forth. “Getting in, Sips?” he asks the mortal king.

Sips sits down on the towel he’d put down and dunks his feet in. “Maybe later. I’m a baby, have to warm up to the water before I get in.”

“Waaaaaaah,” Smith cries, popping up from the water to make the sound and then ducking down again.

Trott snorts, and settles further into his book.

 

“Whatcha making, Sips?” Ross asks him as he gets out of the pool. The metal step-ladder on the side of the pool creaks and whines under his weight.

“Bar-be-cue _ribs_ ,” Sips replies, carrying a tray with the ribs, cooking utensils, and a bottle of barbecue sauce over to the pre-lit grill. He’s wearing an apron now, with the words "Master Griller" in cursive font.

"Master Griller? More like master-bater, am I right, oooh!" Smith growls from the pool as he wades into the shallow end.

Everybody rolls their eyes.

“What’d you put on the ribs? Did you marinate them, or use some herbs or something?” Ross asks, wandering over to stand behind Sips’ shoulder.

Sips sets down the tray and opens up the grill, snapping his cooking tongs and laying the food on the grill. “ _Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,_ ” he sings slightly off-key, _Remember me to one who lives there..._ ”

“I remember that song.” Trott says from his shaded lounge chair. “Simon and Garfunkel, right?”

“You remember- how the fuck do you remember that song?” Sips turns from the grill to look at Trott. “My ma was barely an _adult_ when that came out; none of us were even _born_.”

The trio of fae burst into laughter. Smith, who was just climbing out of the pool, laughs so hard he falls back in. When he resurfaces, he’s still laughing.

“How old do you think we are, Sips?” he exclaims, pushing his wet hair out of his face.

“I thought you two were in your twenties!” Sips sputters in confusion.

Trott holds his side as he wheezes with laughter. “Mate, I’m technically in my sixties, and Smith’s even older than that.”

“ _Are you fucking shitting me?_ ” Sips looks to Ross. “I mean, I figured _you_ were old-”

“Centuries, mate,” Ross adds.

“But...”

Smith finally gets out of the pool, laughing and gesturing at Trott as he drips water everywhere, _can you believe this guy?_

Ross shrugs. “Sorry, Sips. Guess you really are the baby.”

“ _Fuck_ ing hell...” Sips shakes his head and closes the grill. “I need a beer...”

 

"So how old _are_ you, Sips?" Trott asks with a smile when Sips returns from a short venture inside.

"Nope." Sips replies, throwing open the grill again. He exchanges his bottle of beer for the barbecue sauce, unscrews the top and squirts an unhealthy amount of it onto the ribs. "Not answering that." He picks up a basting brush and slathers the sauce across the meat.

"Oh come on, we've told you our ages. Or at least approximates."

"I'm going to guess..." Smith starts, counting on his fingers.

"If you get this horribly wrong you're not getting popsicles later," Sips warns. He lets the sauce glaze the ribs before flipping them and slathering the other side.

"Popsicles?" Ross asks confusedly.

"...Thirty six." Smith finishes.

"Ehhh, I'll take it," Sips replies, "Ross, come over here and open my beer."

Smith fist pumps. "Yes, we get popsicles!"

"What are popsicles?" Ross asks again, walking over to Sips so the mortal king can use his tail as a bottle opener.

"They're usually a fruit flavored ice on a stick," Trott answers, “We’ll have some after dinner.”

 

"Okay, I've got orange, blue raspberry, grape, and cherry." Sips struggles to hold the box of popsicles as the three fae get grabby. They sit down at the side of the pool, dangling their feet in the water. Ross has eaten his blue raspberry popsicle before Sips can even get his grape one open.

"Can I have another?" The gargoyle asks, licking his blue-tinged lips.

"Nah, mate, gotta save your appetite for dessert." Smith smiles and gives his orange popsicle a sexualized lick.

Ross frowns. "I thought this _was_ dessert."

Smith gives him a grin. "Our king's got a different popsicle you can suck on later."

Sips coughs and gives Smith a side-eye at the bad innuendo. His mouth falls open as he watches Smith pretty much fellate his popsicle, demonstrating what he had been referring to. Smith stops to laugh at the look on Sips face.

"This was a very bad idea. Or maybe a very good idea, I don't know yet,” Sips mutters.

"Probably something good," Trott says, laughing. "If history repeats itself." His eyes are dark and his lips are cherry red.

Sips scans Trott's lips as the selkie's tongue darts out to lick them. He looks down at the melting popsicle in his hand and flings it into the pool with a splash.

"If you didn't want it, I'd take it," Ross grumbles beside him.

Sips ignores him. He leans across Smith's legs and cups under Trott's chin to draw him into a kiss.

Smith makes a noise of confused protest while Trott parts Sips' mouth and slips his tongue just inside. Sips can taste the cherry on Trott's tongue, assumes the selkie has handed his popsicle to Ross by the "Thanks, Trott" he hears behind him.

Smith makes more grumpy noises, and Sips would push him into the pool if he and Trott weren't in the way.

"Ross, go get the comforter off of my bed," Sips says when he breaks the kiss for a moment. He hears Ross get up and go inside, and when Sips opens his eyes, Trott's staring back at him wantonly.

"Uh, guys? Can I get in on this, or are you just going to kiss over my lap?"

Sips sits back to give Smith a look, but Trott scrambles over Smith's legs to straddle Sips' lap.

"If you let me fall or push me into the pool-" he warns.

"I won't." Sips cuts off Trott's threat and kisses him again. He wraps his arms around the selkie's waist.

"I'm okay with watching, but... _guys_..." Smith whines, "Why do you have to be such a _tease_?"

Trott grins and shifts his hips, and Sips moans into his mouth. Trott's hands are on his shoulders, tracing the lines of his collarbone as they make out.

Sips hears the patio door open and close and the sounds of Ross walking closer.

"Where do I put this?"

"Grass," Sips manages to gasp to Ross before Trott kisses him again.

"We're having sex _outside_?" Smith asks loudly, “What is this, Kinky Poolside Porno #3?”

Sips breaks from Trott's lips again and pats the selkie's thigh to get him off his lap. The mortal king stands up with a groan. He cracks his back and follows Trott over to the small lawn where Ross is smoothing out the comforter.

"Sure is, Smiffy," he says at last. "Let's give my sexually deprived old neighbors some high-quality audio porn." He sits down, legs splayed, and pulls Trott beside him by the front of his t-shirt.

"Dirty fucker..." Smith murmurs. He joins the rest of them on the comforter, kneeling behind Sips and kissing his neck bruisingly.

"C'mere Ross." Sips calls to the other side of the comforter, smiling. "I believe you have another popsicle to suck."

Smith laughs into Sips' neck. Trott nudges him to switch sides, and starts kissing his own marks down the mortal king's neck.

Ross smirks and crawls between Sips' legs. Sips lifts his hips up for Ross to tug off his swim trunks, and soon enough the warmth of Ross’ mouth is sinking down Sips' cock.

" _Fuck_ , how'd you get so good at this?" Sips sighs and tilts his head back for Trott and Smith to have more working space. He brushes his hand through Ross' hair as the gargoyle sucks him off.

"We trained him," Trott chuckles in Sips' ear.

His eyes flutter shut in bliss and he laughs. "Of course you did."

"He has a lot of talent, too," Smith murmurs, his eyes dark with mirth and arousal. He nips gently under Sips' chin.

Ross works his mouth harder, faster. His hands pin Sips' legs to the comforter beneath them as Sips loudly proclaims praise and innuendo with every bob of Ross' head.

When Sips is getting close, Trott pulls away from his neck and scrambles over to Ross to pull his head up.

"What..." Sips mumbles.

Trott whispers something into Ross' ear, and the gargoyle looks up at Sips with a smirk. He licks his lips and then gives Trott a nod.

Smith's mouth makes a wet smacking sound on Sips' neck. His eyebrows furrow at Trott as the selkie widens Sips' legs a tad and settles next to Ross.

"What're you..." Sips and Smith ask simultaneously, but they trail off when Ross and Trott start kissing with Sips' cock between them.

"Fuck." Sips head falls back onto Smith's shoulder as Smith gapes in surprise. "Shit."

Trott sucks at the tip and Ross sucks at the base and soon enough Sips is coming with a loud, wordless exclaim.

A few stripes land across Trott's face when he pulls off too early. Trott grimaces but Ross just giggles and licks his cheek.

Sips can feel Smith's arousal pressed against his back, and the kelpie groans low into his ear at the sight before him.

"Fucking hell," Sips sighs. "You two..."

Sharing smiles, Trott pulls Ross into a kiss and Smith grinds himself against Sips' back, groaning louder and tugging at Sips' earlobe with his teeth.

"You seem to have a problem there, Smiffy," Sips drawls, panting.

"Too fuckin' right I do," he growls, breath hot on Sips' ear.

"We've all got a problem, Sips," Trott says, pulling away from Ross and gesturing at his tented shorts and Ross' literal hard-on.

"Well, you've got some time before I'm ready to go again, so it's now or later."

"You got any lube?" Smith moves from behind Sips, and the mortal king reclines back onto the comforter.

"Not with me. Just amuse your king for entertainment.”

Trott laughs, and Smith grins and crawls over to kiss him bruisingly. The kelpie whispers something in Trott's ear, and Trott smirks before kissing Smith and pulling him closer.

Sips watches the sight before him with lidded eyes, moaning occasionally. The three fae get each other off quickly and easily, all grinding against each other with Trott between the other two.

When all are sated, they lean back on the comforter, cuddled around their king, and stare up into the night sky. Few stars are out because they live in the city, but that doesn't bother them. They're simply happy to look up at the open expanse of blue-black. The occasional firefly lights up the backyard in a pulse of neon, and the Garbage Court sighs with the feeling of homeliness.


	2. A Birthday Extravaganza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Sips’ birthday, but some unexpected guests show up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: knives

"I thought I told you guys you didn't have to get me anything for my birthday..." Sips says as Trott fixes his tie. The suit he's wearing is one of the most ridiculous Sips has ever seen- completely gold, and flashy as hell. The rest of his court are wearing silver suits- but Smith isn't wearing a tie, and Ross isn't wearing a suit jacket. Trott's the only one in a full silver get-up, and dress shoes. "I'm pretty sure the only thing I said I wanted weeks ago was cake and ice cream," Sips adds.

Trott smiles pleasantly, smoothing the fabric across Sips' shoulders and looking him over. His watch glimmers on his wrist. "Your first Court birthday has to be a celebration, Sips. A party has to be in store."

"I gathered as much." Sips smiles. There's a little bit of nervousness in him, wondering how well the night will fare. It's been months since New Years, but his court has kept him around all this time. No matter how the night ends, he knows there’s something magnificent planned.

"We thought about doing something small, but this is better," Ross notes, scuffing his Chuck Taylors on the living room carpet. “Not just cake and ice cream, but dancing, and fireworks, and games...”

"And this way, I wouldn't jump out of the cake and get your dessert all sticky," Smith says. He lowers his Ray Bans for a moment to wink at Sips. His grin is bright and completely shameless.

Sips grins back. Fuck, he can’t wait to go. If there’s anything his court knows how to do brilliantly well, it’s throw a good party.

Ross' tail swishes back and forth in shared excitement, slicing through the air behind him. "Can we leave yet, Trott? Can we?"

"Yeah, yeah." Trott finally moves away from Sips, reluctantly removing his hands from the fabric of Sips’ gold suit jacket. He gestures towards the apartment door with a smirk. "The party doesn't _really_ start without our guest of honor, anyway..."

 

Trott leads the four of them across a pier and onto a floating shipping freighter in the middle of the ocean. Neon lights and disco balls are strung from tents and pergolas, covering the dj booth and the bar. Sips can just about see a gold probably-VIP tent from the entrance, with a snack table and a huge tiered cake like out of some expensive millionaire’s wedding. There are carnival booths and games, an expansive dance floor, and a roller rink. A Ferris Wheel sits on the river bank. Las-Vegas-style go-go dancers carry around platters of drinks and appetizers. The sound of 80s music and classic rock carries throughout.

Sips stares around in shock. “Guys...you didn’t have to do all this...” No one ever went to lengths like these...fuck, it’s just his birthday, and...they did all this just for him?

Trott shrugs and gives Sips a small, warm smile. “You’re worth it.”

Sips adjusts his hat on his head, unsure what to say. He hopes he’ll get a chance to dance with Trott tonight- he’s sure Trott would oblige him that, since it’s his birthday and all.

Trott points over at the gold tent and mentions the food and drinks ready for them there, but movement to their left catches his eye. Sips notices a group of people cloaked in dark fabric, and Trott sends Smith a sharp, wordless look.

Smith throws his arm around Sips' shoulders, teeth gritted in a slightly forced grin. "C'mon you birthday bastard, let's dance!" His light-up sneakers flash green in the heels as he stomps up the closest staircase with Sips in tow.

Sips goes with him amiably. His questions soon dissolve when Smith tugs him onto the crowded dance floor. The music changes tempo, and the first opening bars are completely recognizable to him.

“Is this what I think it is...it _is_. Soulful Freddie Mercury serenading my ears!” Sips croons, laughing as Smith spins him into his arms. “You really know how to charm a man, Smiffy,” he says, curling his hands onto Smith’s hips.

Smith smiles, his green eyes twinkling in the disco lights. “Only the best, for the best.” He leans his head in to kiss him.

 

“Ross, keep to my side,” Trott mutters once Smith and Sips are far enough away. He approaches the group of five standing by the side of the freighter, taking in the wet brown fabrics draped around their shoulders.

“If you're not refugees, _get out_ ,” he calls to them, stopping several feet from where the de-facto leader has their arms crossed. A knife flickers at his side.

Ross frowns at them, dropping his glamour a fraction to look more menacing.

The man with his arms crossed shakes his head. “We're ambassadors. We wondered what all this nonsense on our shores was.”

“This is too far south to be your territory.”

“Not anymore.” He tilts his head, blue eyes judgmental and curious. “How long is this floater staying?”

“For the night, at the least, and a day at the most. That doesn’t mean you’re invited up onto it- ‘your territory’ or not, this freighter is currently rented by my court.” Trott narrows his eyes. “I'm surprised your king allows such interaction with the surface.”

The man lowers his arms to his sides with a petulant sigh. “Our _queen_ understands the world is not what it was. Potential threats must always be assessed. Mortals...” He glances at the crowd, and Trott bristles, knowing Sips is somewhere up there with Smith. “They serve at least _some_ purpose. But as _kings? Really?_ ” He raises an eyebrow.

Trott interrupts him before he can continue. “You have no bearing to judge the rules of the land. And it’s _especially_ no business of yours to make sense of how I run my court,” he snaps.

“If you actually run it, and not whatever human you have as the figurehead.” The man grimaces in disgust. “Taking orders from them? _Celebrating_ them? That’s just asking for them to take advantage, and you’re a fool for believing your safe otherwise.”

Trott glares.

“Mortals are not suited for-”

“It doesn’t matter what you think is suitable- your laws don’t apply to me, and they don’t apply to my court,” Trott interjects.

The man scoffs haughtily. “Your court _will_ fall- surely you must see that? It’s futile to-”

“Then if it does, it will fall with me.” Trott inclines his head, dismissive. “Regardless, I’m done talking politics here. This freighter will be gone by noon tomorrow, and the people will be off of it long before. For now, this place is Garbage Court territory,” he growls, “ _So get the fuck off my ship_. You’re not welcome here.”

 

“Who were they, Trott?” Ross asks, once the fae have disappeared off the side of the ship. He has a feeling about them, but he knows without a doubt that they meant trouble.

“I don’t know, specifically.” Trott grimaces, staring out to sea with a foul expression. “But it’s not important- they won’t come back. And if they do...” He grips his knife tightly at his side, so hard his knuckles burn. “I’ll be waiting.”


	3. Old Keepsakes

Ross sits next to Sips on the floor, head on Sips’ shoulder as they watch reruns of Desperate Housewives. Sips has taken this Monday off, so he and Ross have spent it watching tv and being lazy. Trott is working, and Smith is out somewhere, probably causing his favorite kind of trouble.

Ross shifts his cheek on Sips’ shoulder and smiles up at him. The gold-embroidered crown on Sips’ baseball at glimmers in the slanted afternoon light coming in through the blinds. Something else metallic catches Ross’ eye, and he reaches out for it.

Sips looks down at him as Ross carefully pulls the necklace out from behind his t-shirt. He holds it up in the light, looking at the plain gold and silver band where it lies against Sips’ chest.

"What's this from?" Ross asks.

"An old friend." Sips voice sounds weary.

Ross meets his grey eyes, an unspoken question on his lips.

Sips sighs heavily. His hand slides down the neck of his beer bottle. "I don't know why I wear it, Ross. Grim nostalgia, I guess. Half the time I forget it’s even there."

"Were you ever married, Sips?"

Sips scoffs. A bitter smile crosses his face, but his eyes are pained. "No. I'm not the marrying kind."

Ross hums and lets go of the ring. He brushes his finger along the rough stubble on Sips' cheek. "Trott and Smith aren't either."

Sips laughs at the tinge of disappointment in Ross’ voice. The force of his chuckling shakes Ross' hand on his chest. “Some people aren’t, Ross. Some people don’t end up together.”

Ross frowns sadly. He wants to ask more, but Sips doesn’t look too happy about it.

Sips reaches up and tucks the necklace back in his shirt. “Hey, you hungry? Let’s go get a snack.” He changes the subject with a small smile.

 

The winter market is small this year. Sips leads Ross through the small circle of stalls, pulling his coat tighter around himself to keep out the cold. He buys them a big bag of caramel corn from the popcorn vendor, and they sit on a park bench by the river to eat.

Sips stares out at the icy water with a hard look behind his grey eyes. He wipes his hand free of crumbs and tugs his necklace up from under all his layers. “Maybe I should get rid of this,” he admits, “Maybe it’s time.” He inspects the ring on the chain, turning it around in his fingertips with a quiet sigh.

Somber clouds have dimmed the sunlight, and from this angle Ross can tell there’s an inscription on the band of silver and gold.

“What does it say?” Ross asks.

“‘Forever and always.’ It used to be a promise ring.” He folds his fingers around it tightly.

“And you want to get rid of that?” Ross frowns, crumpling the empty, greasy paper bag in his hands. “Are they not around anymore?” he asks carefully.

Sips swallows thickly and looks out into the horizon. “No, they haven't been around for a long time.” He heaves a sigh and stands up, pulling the chain up over his head and grumbling when it gets caught momentarily on fabric. He walks forward until his arm hangs over the railing, and holds the chain out over the river, watching the silver sway gently in the breeze.

Sips watches for a long minute, thinking. His fingers slowly loosen, and the chain slips through his grip and disappears into the cold waves beneath.

Ross stands up, meeting Sips’ side as the mortal king takes a step back and lowers his arm to his side.

Sips takes a deep breath and lets it out again. It feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “Sometimes it's best to let things go,” he says aloud, to himself more than Ross.

Ross puts his arm around Sips, and Sips pats his back with a smile. “You want anything else while we’re out?” he asks, “Ice cream?”

“In winter?” Ross chuckles, “Smith always complains it's too cold.”

“You can have ice cream anytime, Ross. Fuck the weather.” Sips swings an arm around Ross' shoulders and guides him towards the car, turning his back on the river.

“What about Smith?”

“Fuck Smiffy too.”

Sips and Ross share a grin.


	4. Corset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2000’s era Hot Topic  
> http://www.accessoriesmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/Hot-Topic-storefront.jpg
> 
> http://www.aliexpress.com/item/Luxurious-Emerald-Green-And-Black-Lace-Corset-With-Front-Clasps-Pleats-And-Bow/2031396754.html  
> this was as close as I could find to what I was picturing for Smith, but perhaps not so rigid or curvaceous *shrug*
> 
> https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/a/a8/I_Want_To_Break_Free.jpg  
> Freddie Mercury is third from the left, Brian May is second.
> 
> http://www.foxers.com/navy-boxer-brief-with-gold-stitching/
> 
> https://wanelo.com/p/28566301/gold-metallic-matte-sexy-lame-boy-shorts

"Smith, we're not spending grocery money on a corset."

They do not fit in at this store. Smith is a decade behind fashion-wise, wearing a Nirvana t-shirt and a patched jean jacket he'd stolen from a kill. Sips just looks like a dad, dressed in his business suit and baseball cap. A mix of death metal, punk pop, and emo rock music plays from the speakers. The walls are lined with band t-shirts, and it’s hard to make out what’s actually for sale in the dimly-lit store. The goth kid with the nose ring at the counter is giving them a bored look.

“But it’s _green_. Sips, _come on_.” Smith tugs at the hem of the lace around the edge of the corset, smiling.

“No.”

“ _Sips_ ,” Smith whines. He bats his eyelashes at Sips until the older man groans in frustration. “Just imagine how pretty I’ll look in it!”

“Do you have the money to get it?”

Smith makes a pouty face, and Sips finally sighs and relents. “ _Fine_. But _just_ the corset. Nothing else.”

Smith happily takes the green and black laced monstrosity off of the rack and takes it to the counter. Sips follows behind, getting out his wallet. They had gone to the mall to get Sips’ watch battery replaced, but Smith had dragged him off shopping in the other department stores while they waited.

“Think I should get my bellybutton pierced next time?” Smith asks on their way out the iron hellgate of an entryway, swinging the bag on his wrist.

Sips rolls his eyes heavily, while Smith just laughs. “We don’t have time for that.”

“What, you don’t want to see me in a crop top more often?”

“You don’t need metal dangling above your happy trail to wear a crop top, Smiffy.” Sips shakes his head. “Besides, Trott’s more of a crop top person that you are.”

“What, are you saying Trott looks better in a crop top than me?”

“Exactly.”

Smith makes an indignant squawk and Sips smiles. A group of old ladies meander past them as they continue walking through the mall.

“We’ll see who looks best, when I try this on at home.” Smith crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’ll help you with it.”

“Yeah? Gonna help me out of it, too?” Smith grins.

“Maybe.”

“How do you know about corsets, anyway?”

“I dressed up as Freddie Mercury for Halloween, once,” Sips informs, “Well, several times. One Halloween, I dressed up as Freddie Mercury in drag as Bet Lynch from Coronation Street. From the ‘I Want To Break Free’ music video. Xephos was Brian May as Hilda Ogden.”

Smith laughs loudly, drawing the brief attention of a woman pushing a baby stroller. “ _Xephos?_ You're kidding!”

“Nope. Hair curlers and all.” Sips smiles.

“You really fucking like Freddie Mercury, don't you?”

Sips shrugs, momentarily pausing until they got past a barrage of kiosks. “The man was a legend. Talented and sex appealing.”

“So you would have banged him?”

“It's always about sex with you, isn't it, Smiffy? Nah, I dunno. Not sure if I'm into him like that. Gone, now. Shame. Fantastic man.” Sips shakes his head and looks away, frowning at the storefronts.

“Hey, maybe we can get something for Trott while we’re here,” Smith says, nudging Sips to stop before they pass a lingerie store.

Sips goes to check his watch and sighs when it’s not there. “Alright. Make it quick, though.”

They walk into the brightly lit store, and Smith idly looks at the displays, chewing his lip. He makes a slow lap of the room and then shuffles back to Sips near the front.

“You didn't see anything?” Sips rifles through a nearby rack, pulling out a red pair of panties. “How about these?”

“Nice, but I think he has a pair like that.”

Sips tuts and puts it back.“You didn't even look through these, did you?”

Smith shrugs. “There are human women everywhere.” He gestures at the billboard-like ads plastered around the room.

Sips raises an eyebrow and pointedly looks at the bag on Smith’s wrist. “Says the man holding a corset. It's just underwear.”

“It's...awkward. I can't explain why. Without pictures of a guy actually wearing them it feels more perverted...”

“So, let me get this straight- you have a problem shopping over here because you’re buying them for Trott?” Sips asks.

Smith nods slowly.

"If it didn't have the labels male and female, would it matter? If there were boxers mixed with panties, would it make any difference?"

"No...it’s just _weird_.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Human society puts such big labels on genders. And Trott’s a _guy_. I don’t apply because I’m a shapeshifter, because I don’t have that same association with gender. So it’s weird buying things like this for him, I guess. Normally Trott buys this stuff for himself.” He scuffs his shoe against the floor.

“Aw, Smiffy, you’re embarrassed! It’s okay, I bought my boyfriend panties before, too,” Sips teases, “Would it make you feel better if you pretended they were mine?” He stretches neon pink lace out in midair, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Smith makes a face.

Sips laughs and throws the pair back in the pile on the table. He searches through a few more racks, holding up the occasional pair for Smith to approve or disapprove. Eventually Sips finds a pair of skimpy navy blue boyshorts, embellished with with gold stars.

“Those are nice.” Smith comments, reaching out and feeling the fabric. “Soft.”

“Yeah? Great.” Sips grins and slaps the pair of panties over Smith's arm. "Hold my knickers for me, Smiffy."

Smith rolls his eyes heavily, and Sips stands up straighter and stretches. “Alright. Let’s check out and get to the store.”

“Do we _have_ to go to the store?” Smith whines.

“Yeap, we’re outta milk. Come on. Won’t take that long. I’ll even let you push the cart.”

Smith groans and follows behind Sips to check out again.

 

When they arrive home, Sips partially unloads the groceries, putting the milk and perishables in the fridge and the fudge bars he’d gotten Ross into the freezer. He finds Smith in the bathroom with the unlaced corset and tuts.

“You didn’t have to unlace it entirely to put it on, Smiffy. Here, gimme that.”

Sips threads the ribbon through one eyelet at a time, and then helps slide it over Smith’s head. The green of the corset matches the green in Smith’s eyes, and Sips watches him in the mirror as he pulls the ribbons taught behind him. “You want it to feel snug, but not so tight that it’s pinching or restricting your breathing. Okay?”

Smith nods. He traces his fingertips along the lace-lined top.

Sips ties a bow in the back and pulls open the drawer in the bathroom vanity where Trott keeps a little collection of make-up. He fiddles around for a minute until he finds eyeliner and mascara, and gestures for Smith to turn to face him more.

“But _Sips_ ,” Smith whines half-heartedly.

Sips rolls his eyes. “You know Trott’ll like it, come on. ‘s not gonna kill you.”

When he finishes, Sips rifles through the back of the bedroom closet and tosses a piece of clothing, small and metallic gold, Smith’s way. “Put those on instead of your boxers, it’ll look better.”

Smith picks them up off the floor and stretches them out. “Whose are these?”

“Used to be mine.”

“Eeeew, and you think my ass is gonna fit in your skimpy gold panties?”

“Worth a shot. It’s not like I wear them anymore.”

“Hm, you should.” Smith winks. He sheds his boxers but winces at the pull in the crotch as he slides the briefs on.

Sips grabs the hem from behind and tugs them up over Smith’s hips.

Smith yelps and waddles about trying to wiggle them down enough. Sips stretches out the legs and they get them settled just far enough to keep his dick covered.

“These are not going to survive,” Smith comments.

Sips shrugs. “That’s kinda the idea.” He spends a long moment looking Smith up and down, but turns away when the landline in the kitchen rings. It goes to the answering machine, and Sips smiles at Ross’ too-loud shouting.

“IT’S FUCKING RAINING CAN SOMEONE PLEASE PICK ME UP FROM THE LIBRARY, THANKS.” _Click._

One of these days they had to teach him not to yell into phones.

Sips looks back to Smith, giving him a look. “I’m going to go pick up Ross. You and Trott have fun when he gets home, yeah?”

Smith grins, turning in place with his hands on his hips, trying to get comfortable and used to the shape of the corset and the tiny gold panties. “Will do, you magnificent bastard. Bring Ross around later for round two, yeah?”

 

Trott drops his bag by the bedroom door with a thud upon seeing Smith stretched out on the sheets. The rain has gotten to him on his walk home, by the looks of it. Smith preens under his gaze as it looks him over.

“This is a surprise...” Trott murmurs, shedding his wet clothes as he walks closer.

Smith smirks and bats his eyelashes. “You like?”

“ _Mhm_...”

Trott’s hand skims up Smith’s thigh and under the hem of the shorts as he bends down to kiss him. “I like these, too.”

Smith grins between kisses. “They’re Sips’.”

Trott muffles a laugh with Smith’s mouth. “Of course they are.”

"We got something for you, too."

"We?"

"Sips and I." Smith reaches underneath the pillow and hands Trott the underwear, still with the tags on.

Trott smiles in appreciation, rubbing his thumb across the fabric. “Thanks, sunshine. Something for me to put on when I get out of these wet clothes, huh?” He sets it away on the side table.

"Yeah. I’d better help you with that." Smith grins and reaches out for Trott to tug him onto the bed, kissing him again.

 

“No Smith or Trott?” Ross asks Sips as he buckles his seatbelt. Rain pours down around the cars in the library parking lot, and Ross scowls at it.

“Something tells me they’re going to be busy for awhile.” Sips grins.

“You mean they’re fucking.”

Sips laughs at Ross’ bluntness. “Yeah. Smith bought a corset at the mall, and wanted to show it off. We can go pick up some food in the meantime, and bring Trott and Smith the leftovers later. What sounds good, Ross? It can be whatever you want.”

“Anything?” Ross chews his lip as he thinks. “Maybe some Italian. And can we get ice cream after?”

“We can always get ice cream,” Sips says with a smile, “Though...how about gelato for a change of pace?”


	5. Storms and Cinnamon Rolls

After dinner, the hour draws late. Trott reads in bed with Smith settled next to him, playing with the drawstrings of Trott’s pajama pants. Smith is warmer than the glow of the bedside lamp. The room is shadowed. Rain pours down outside the apartment. It had been storming all day and all night, and Trott can hear it washing through the gutters, metallically pouring into the open trash can around the back of the apartment. He had stayed home from work, but gave up on getting any work done because of restless sleep. Smith had slept most of the day away, from getting in late, and spent the rest of it in bed with Trott.

Thunder booms suddenly, and Trott ignores his own flinch from the thunderclap. The lamp flickers, and his sighs, closing his eyes as lightning flashes behind the drawn curtains.

Smith gently takes the book out of Trott’s hand and removes his glasses, setting them both aside before pulling Trott in for a kiss. Trott curls closer to him, folding himself into the security of his arms. He wasn’t really reading, anyway.

 

In the kitchen, Ross slides several round, silver pans of cinnamon rolls out of the oven and rests them on the stovetop. Sips sits on the counter licking icing off his fingers. The air smells of cinnamon and vanilla.

A thunderclap sounds outside, shaking the floor. They both look towards the living room, watching the lightning strobe past the window. Ross spent a lot of time watching it rain today, until Sips drew him away from that when he came home from work.

The tv in the living room is playing reruns of Ghost Adventures. Ross gets so enraptured with it that Sips wants to scare him, but he'd rather not get anything broken. It wasn’t the greatest idea to scare a marble and stained-glass gargoyle. Last time he did, he narrowly avoided getting smacked with Ross' tail, and the floor lamp went crashing to the ground. Which wasn't the first time Ross had destroyed a lamp, apparently. Floor lamps had been outlawed in the living room ever since.

Another loud thunderclap shakes the apartment. Sips hunches his shoulders and glances up at the shitty ceiling. Ross is used to this sort of loud noise, it seems. His hand doesn't waver as he ices the cinnamon rolls.

“I think Smith and Trott are in the bedroom,” Ross says.

“Hand me a plate?”

Ross sets the finished icing aside and reaches up to take plates from the cabinet. “You gonna bring them some?” he asks.

“Fuck no, they have to get their own.” Sips grins. “I'm gonna go gloat that I have delicious baked goods and they don't.”

Ross smiles back, dishing up several cinnamon rolls onto the plate for Sips, and handing him a fork. “The king should get the first bite, after all,” Ross agrees.

Sips cuts himself a piece of a cinnamon roll with the end of the fork, and takes a bite.

“Mmmm, mm." He hums happily. His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles at the pleased look on Ross' face.

"Good?"

Sips swallows and licks his lips. "Excellent, Ross."

"Great." Ross beams.

Sips can see the swish of Ross' tail behind him. The lights in the kitchen shine in his eyes, and he closes the gap between them to kiss Ross sweetly in thanks.

 

Trott and Smith cuddle under the blankets, kissing. Smith rubs his hand up and down Trott’s side.

Another loud boom of thunder sounds, enough for even Smith to freeze up, and Trott shudders, tightening his fist tight in Smith’s shirt.

“Shhh...” Smith whispers, rubbing his back. He lowers his arm until it was around Trott's waist and kisses him again reassuringly.

Trott kisses him harder, getting a soft noise out of Smith in return. The tv and Ross and Sips talking in the kitchen is a burbling murmur at this volume. Trott could probably make out what’s being said, or what tv show is on, but he doesn’t have the energy.

Their kissing breaks for a moment, and Trott breathes in deeply.

“Do you smell cinnamon?” Trott asks. A pleased smile crosses his face as Smith kisses under his jaw.

“Mmm...dunno. _You_ smell good, though.” Smith nips at his neck. He rubs his scratchy stubble on Trott’s skin. Trott had taken a bath, during the gap between storms. This contact now felt more settling than the lavender and sandalwood bubblebath had been.

Trott sighs and closes his eyes.

It could only been minutes, but some time later they hear the clinking of metal on ceramic. Trott and Smith part to find Sips standing in the bedroom doorway.

“Hey, water-fucks. What are you two up to?” Sips asks innocently. He takes a large bite of his cinnamon rolls and moans.

Trott snorts. Sips knows exactly what they were heading towards, however slow a pace they were moving at tonight.

Smith frowns. “Fuck you, Sips. Why didn't you bring me anything?”

"Get your own damn cinnamon rolls, Smiffy."

“ _Sips_.”

Trott smirks into Smith's neck. The cinnamon rolls do smell delicious. He's tempted to go get a plate from Ross, but that would mean he'd have to leave Smith to do so. He teases his fingertips up and down Smith's side.

Smith growls. “You're gonna fucking eat in front of me, then? I see how you are, you fucking bastard.”

“ _Mmmm_ , these cinnamon rolls are _so good_ ," Sips moans theatrically loud.

Trott grins at the sound of Ross' laughter echoing from the kitchen.

“Sips, _come on_ , give me a bite,” Smith whines, flopping backwards into the pillows. He pushes at Sips' legs with his toes when Sips comes closer. “ _Sips_.”

Sips sighs and rolls his eyes heavily. "Alright, you filthy animal, calm yourself." He cuts another piece, and feeds Smith the forkful. Smith makes happy noises.

"You'd think you were a fucking baby bird, waiting to be fed." Sips shakes his head with an amused smile, and spears another piece on his fork. "Here, Trott."

Trott sits up and takes the offered bite of cinnamon roll. He chews slowly, savoring. The sweetness of the icing; the spice of the cinnamon. Sips lets him lick the fork clean before pulling it away.

"Scoot over, Smiffy, you're in my spot."

"You don't have a spot on the bed, the bed is a free for all," Smith complains, moving even more into Trott's space so Sips can sit down.

Ross appears in the bedroom doorway, toting three plates of cinnamon rolls. "Brought you some,” he greets.

“Fuck, yeah! Ross, you're the best!” Smith makes grabby hands as Ross divvies out the plates. He stabs the center of the roll with his fork and takes a bite out of the side.

"Thanks, Ross." Trott says warmly, taking the fork the gargoyle hands him.

Ross smiles back and sits down at the end of the bed by their feet. He curls his tail around Trott’s ankle. “You're welcome, Trott. Dig in.”


End file.
